When my siblings and I were younger, each summer my dad would take us and sometimes one of our friends camping. Tucked away on the outskirts of Sedona is Manzanita Campground, and after a three hour car ride full of munching on Cheerios and fruit snacks, my dad pulled into our campsite with the overpacked minivan. It was full of "absolute necessities" including air mattresses, a propane grill, lawn chairs, four coolers filled with burgers, hot dogs, and snacks since he always over packs. I still have no idea how he managed to fit in five children and all of our junk inside that one vehicle.

The minute my dad turned off the engine, we all tumbled out, ready to explore. My sister Anna, her friend Halie, and I immediately ran away in our frilly, rainbow colored bathing suits complete with bright pink, star-shaped sunglasses to the edge of the woods feeling like mini supermodels. When we got there, we switched from being fashionistas to adventurers, crawling across fallen logs and carefully avoiding tangles of low hanging branches, probably dragging our Hannah Montana towels across the dirt and snagging the fabric on branches. As we headed deeper into the forest of trees, we soon heard rushing water and gleeful shouts of other kids.

As the ground sloped and the woods thinned out, we could see the expanse of pebbles and water reeds. Oak Creek is a stream of constantly gurgling water which crashed over rocks and runs through the woods for miles. The air is filled with the scent of fish and algae which had been beaten by the hot sun all day, yet it was nothing to us as we ran giggling to the edge of the water. Red mud, from all the iron in the rocks and sand clung to our flip flops and made squelching noises until we pulled them off. Anna usually braved the water first, taking a big breath and grinned as she put one foot into the creek, then another. Soon all of us were splashing in the cool water, shrieking in delight at the feeling of mud between our wiggling toes.

The water sparkled from the sun shining from above, causing the surface to gleam and leaving sunny patches on rocks where the dragonflies perched. I usually tried to catch them by pinching their "tails" and it worked a few times. I look back and hope I didn't hurt any of them by doing that. If there were no dragonflys to chase, the water was filled with life of its own. I would watch the tiny fish dart around the rocks, some barely the size of my thumb. As soon as it stopped for an instant, I pounced, plunging my hands underwater to grab it. The little creatures were much too fast to catch by hand, but I was never deterred.

Soon we'd be was worn out, and dry off in the sun, wrapped ourselves up in our fluffy towels. When we were ready to head back to camp, we'd take a different path, this one leading us though big sunny patches of green bushes with clusters of blackberries weighing down their branches. The whole area let out a ripe scent, making the air fill with almost tangible sweetness. Although the berries were guarded by thorns, all of us would willingly reach our hands into the twists and tangles of the plant. The thorns left fine red lines like the scratches of a cat on our skin, but the reward was handfuls of sticky and sweet berries that were much fresher than store bought ones. We were messy children, by time we were done, the berries had stained our lips pink, our fingers tips were dyed to a light purple, and our bathing suits covered in drip marks.

Sometimes we'd go back to the camp for a snack, or when the sun was setting, we stayed until dinner was ready. When night sets in at the camp, fires flicker to life from other campers and woody smoke drifts through the air. At our camp site, the fire pit logs crackled and sent smoldering embers spinning into the air. On the first night, my dad always made burgers. Everyone waited in anticipation as he laid the meat on the grill over the flames. The sizzles of fat could be heard, and soon the raw meat started to brown whole the scent of it made my stomach growl. Hours seemed to pass as the tender meat was positioned this way and that, letting the grates leave charred lines on both sides, the juices making the metal shine.

The burgers finally finished cooking and were passed around. We chatted as we took large, chomping bites, racing to finish our burgers since afterwards we could eat as many snacks as we wanted. As we ate, my dad would set out Hershey's bars, graham crackers, and jumbo marshmallows. After everyone was done, we rushed over to jam marshmallows on pokers and then to put them into the red hot flames. I used to have fun keeping the marshmallows in the flames too long, my eyes lit up every time I pulled the poker back and saw the marshmallow blown up like a balloon then have it quickly deflate to become a shriveled husk. After eating much too many s'mores and mini donuts, we went into the girls' tent buzzing with sugar. Late into the night we talked of berries and fish until we fell asleep in the warm summer night, ready to start the cycle again in the morning.